


Night Shift

by ElvenStars



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenStars/pseuds/ElvenStars
Summary: Wade checks into a motel, as told by the desk staff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Night Shift

Leanne was in the last hour of her shift manning the desk. She'd finished her assignment for her Speechwriting 101 course, and had dealt with the few guests that had had the _audacity_ to ask her for assistance. 416 had needed an extra towel right as she'd gotten to the good part of her book and she'd nearly growled at him over the phone. Being on the front desk for the night shift may have meant that she had to put on her customer service smile from 10 pm till 6, but it could have been worse.

She could have been assigned to work with the day shift crew.

An involuntary shudder stole through her; what a pack of assholes.

Leanne had finished doing her service checks, and was just sitting down again when someone came hurtling into the hotel, slamming through the glass of the sliding doors at waist height, and rolling to a stop ten feet into the lobby. Leanne ducked behind the counter and tried not to scream, panic breathing behind the desk at the sound of gunshots from outside, return fire from _inside_. The man was yelling something about the worst uber driver he'd ever had when she finally remembered the procedure for an active shooter situation and started crawling for the backroom. She'd almost made it to the door when the bell at the desk rang behind her. The lobby was deathly quiet. A man's voice said, in a cheerful Canadian accent "Hi, I'd like to rent a room?"

Shaking, she looked over her shoulder. A giant, horrifically scarred man was beaming down at her, absentmindedly brushing glass shards off his shoulder. Five years of customer service experience forced it's way out of her mouth to say "Of course sir, I can help you with that." Leanne closed her eyes for a moment, vowing to haunt whoever the fuck had first taught her to say that. She steeled herself, breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She wasn't dead. He hadn't killed her yet. If s- if she checked him in, maybe he wouldn't kill her and she could run away and call the cops. Ok, she could do this. She could do this. She opened her eyes and stood up. "How long will you be staying with us sir?"

"Oh, probably just a few days, I'm in town for a business conference." He replied, turning away from her to pick up a stained duffle bag the ground next to him and placing it on her formerly clean counter. A small part of her brain gritted it's teeth about that as she asked "What kind of room would you prefer?" At his blank look she clarified: "We have single and double rooms available, sir; both smoking and non smoking."

"Right! Sorry." There was an extra "o" in the word 'sorry'. Leanne wondered if he'd stolen it. "Been a long time since I stayed in a fancy-pantsy place like this. Gimme a single non-smoking, I hear cigarettes can give you cancer." He said it like it was supposed to be a joke, so Leanne gave him a polite, if strained smile.

"And how many people will the room be for?" she asked, putting the information into the desk computer.

"Oh, just me and Mr. Lumpy over here", he replied, patting the bag fondly. Leanne looked at it reflexively. There was a gun muzzle poking out of the top of the bag. Some kind of rifle. The man, who had rapidly become the worst thing to have ever happened to her, made eye contact with her, and held it as he slowly pushed the gun back into the bag, zipping it up again.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"Could I have your ID and credit card, please?" Leanne grit out, holding on to her customer service voice with both hands and bloody fingernails.

"Do you take cash?" he asked, sliding over an ID. Leanne picked it up and examined it. The photo was an older black woman with grey hair and sunglasses, and the card stated that she was Althea Sanderson, 68.

She handed it back to him. "I will take cash." she finished the entry in the log and booked the room. "That'll be..." she trailed off, as she saw him holding out a thick wad of bills.

It looked like a stack of fifties.

He waggled it at her, and she took it from him.

I was a stack of fifties.

She stared at him.

He smiled at her, his horrible face stretching like a Halloween mask. "Keep th' change."

She kept staring at him. After a couple seconds went by, he coughed awkwardly.

"Can I get my room key?"

She handed him the room key.

Another few seconds passed before he prompted her again, asking for his room number. "You're in room 326. The elevators are just to your left; we hope you enjoy your stay" she recited mechanically, still staring at him.

He took the key, thanked her politely, and then grabbed his bag and left. Leanne watched him go, coming back to herself when the doors closed with a *ding*. She looked at the glass and bullet casings on the lobby floor, then at the stack of cash in her hand, and finally at the red stain the bag had left on her poor counter. "...Yeah, still better than day shift."


End file.
